WARHAMMER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I'M A LITTLE WORRIED ABOUT THE GENESTEALERS IN MY BASEMENT. THEY SEEM TO BE MULTIPLYING.

For those of you who don't know, it takes a long time for word to spread through the Imperium about a Crusade, not to mention assembling forces and deploying them. Obviously, Shepard isn't going to just sit around for the next few months.

Star-Bound

Chapter 4

Light

For the first time in weeks, Shepard awoke not in a featureless cell, but a well-furnished room, in a comfortable bed. Per her request, it was not covered in opulence, but it was still more than a common soldier would ever hope to receive. If she kept her eyes closed, she could pretend that she was back in Nuln; she would have to get up soon and help Eliza with another project, and Gregor's knights needed—

Her eyes shot open, and she sat up straight. Eliza was long dead, and Gregor had been dead for even longer. She wasn't in Nuln, but in Hyperia, on the planet of Vigilus. She looked over at the small table she'd placed by her bed; her broken cane, cleaned of Atranix's blood, lay where she'd put it.

"You're being an idiot, Alexia," she said to herself. "Gregor would be disappointed in you, and so would everyone else. Get a grip and move on."

That was easier said than done, of course. The last of her human friends in the Empire had died almost twenty years before she'd decided to take her fateful journey, and she'd spent most of that time in private mourning. Two decades of grieving were hard to shake. All she could do was keep moving, or else she'd fall right back into that dark place.

Shepard climbed out of bed and got dressed in the military uniform she'd asked for. Someone had asked if she wanted the markings of an officer, but she'd declined. She wasn't actually a soldier of the Imperium—not officially, anyway—and she didn't want to disrespect the men and women who had actually earned their ranks.

There was more to her appearance than just a uniform. The chunk of blackstone she'd used had been fitted to center of the Aquila that hung around her neck, and her power pick hung at her waist. Though to her, it was just a comfort thing—she was in a strange place, and she wanted to keep the only weapon she had—the local leaders saw another advantage. The tool-turned-weapon served as a symbol of her liberation of so many enslaved Imperial citizens. Imperial propaganda had pushed that story hard, omitting the fact that only a single person had actually survived.

No one wanted to hear about how an attempt to liberate thousands of people got them all killed.

Upon exiting her chambers, she was greeted by a squad of Tempestus Scions, led by Vils. The Seventh Deltic Scorpions had been amongst the first volunteers for her Crusade, and when Vils wasn't dealing with the day-to-day operations of running his regiment, he organized her honor guard.

Shepard wanted to shake her head at the whole thing. During her 'conversations' with the Inquisition and Adeptus Ministorum—the Imperium's state religion—she had mentioned wanting to take the battle to the enemy, rather than wait for them to attack her. She had never even used the word 'crusade', but the Imperium began tossing it around like it was going out of style.

"Good morning, ma'am," Vils said with a sharp salute. "I trust you slept well?"

"Better than I did a few days ago." Shepard noticed the dataslate in Vils' hands as she straightened the green officer's cap on her head. "Something for me?"

"Yes." Vils handed her the 'slate. "The details are inside, but Lord Calgar wants to speak with you."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "It's about the whole purifying-Chaos-thing again, isn't it?"

After Shepard was confirmed as a Saint, Calgar had sent her a message every day, posing potential tests for her abilities. Temperance Blaise and Hadrian Rex had protested at the idea of treating divine power as a mundane weapon, but Shepard had agreed with the Chapter Master. She only asked that she be given time to rest, explaining that she would probably get the best results if she was fully recovered from her recent ordeal. Calgar had agreed, and though he was polite in his messages, Shepard could tell that he was becoming impatient.

"All right, let's get this over with." Shepard gestured to Vils. "Lead the way."

For a moment, the group walked in silence, until Vils spoke. "How were your studies, ma'am?"

Shepard took a deep breath. "Honestly? A little overwhelming."

During her recovery, Shepard had asked to be provided with as much information on the Imperium at large—to better serve it, and the God-Emperor, she'd said, and everyone had bought it. Unfortunately, for every question answered, ten more popped up. The Imperium had dozens of factions and sub-factions, and a thousand terms in each that she had to interpret. Before the first day of study was done, she resigned herself to learning about the different Imperial organizations in broad strokes.

Even then, the sheer scale of the Imperium was terrifying. Thousands of systems, each with their own unique traditions and cultures, all had to be managed by a massively overworked bureaucracy called the Administratum. Long-range communications, transmitted by psychic beings—known as psykers—called astropaths, could take years to reach their destination, if they ever did. And that was just the tiniest example; Shepard quickly realized that the Imperium only kept going because of its own unstoppable momentum.

The more she learned, the more part of her despaired. She had always been a champion of innovation, but here, such a thing was literally considered heresy. The Adeptus Mechanicus—a scientific organization that worshiped machines—seemed to have lost the ability to make anything new, or even understand how current technology worked. Superstition and fear trumped reason and evolution.

What was worse was that she actually understood why the Imperium's beliefs were so ridiculous. Every day, Chaos and aliens and other horrors descended on Imperial worlds. The only way to remain vigilant and contain threats was to keep the populace ignorant, paranoid, or both. It reminded her of the more rural parts of the Empire; even after the Final War, the Witch Hunters had done their best to keep knowledge of Chaos from the minds of the citizenry—beyond the fact that Chaos was bad, and had to be eliminated at all costs.

Maybe that was why the Emperor had brought her to this galaxy, Shepard mused. Maybe, if she could do to Chaos here what she did back home, if Chaos was beaten—or at least contained—humanity could finally step out of the darkness.

Shepard filed that terrifying idea away for later; she could worry about saving an entire galaxy when she had the forces to do it. For now, she had a meeting to attend.

It took almost fifteen minutes to reach the Vigilus Senate, and when the great doors opened, it was to a scene of controlled chaos. Mortal officials argued, and Space Marine officers grumbled in low voices; two of the latter looked ready to come to blows. Thankfully, they settled down when the Living Saint arrived.

"Saint Shepard," Calgar greeted from his seat, "thank you for joining us. Have you recovered your strength?"

Shepard tucked her cap under her arm, as she'd seen other Imperial officers do, and sat in a vacant chair at the end of the assembly. "I believe so. Even if I haven't, I don't think we have any more time to waste."

"I agree." Calgar, whose body and armor had greatly recovered since the first time they'd met, nodded. "Your abilities need to be tested; if they are half as effective as the reports claimed, you will be vital in restoring order to Vigilus."

Shepard placed her cap on her lap and laced her fingers over it. "I thought the situation had improved."

A mortal man that she didn't know stood up. "The traitor forces have largely abandoned the system, and the Aeldari have vanished, but the world is still in turmoil. Xenos cults plague us from within, the remaining Orks attack from without, and daemons—" here, he and many others made warding gestures, "—are running rampant across a dozen locations!"

"The honored senator speaks the truth," Calgar admitted. "While we are regaining control, it is taking too long. The gateways set up by the traitors continue to pour in foul Warp-energies; too much manpower is being diverted to contain the forces of Chaos to permanently deal with the xenos."

Shepard understood where he was going with this. "You want to see if I can shut down these gates. If that happens, we can clean up the rest of the enemies here."

"Precisely," Calgar said. "We plan to clear out the least-defended of these locations, and give you time to use your abilities on it."

Shepard nodded. "I'll do it." She needed to get a handle on fighting in this universe, and fighting with Imperial forces would help build a rapport. The last thing she wanted was to get the Inquisition suspicious again; she doubted that the Ministorum could protect her forever.

Calgar actually smiled. "Strike forces of Astartes will land close to the target, while other Imperial forces will surround it and push inward."

Shepard's returning smile was almost predatory. "Catch them from inside and out. I like it."

"I am glad you approve." Calgar rose, his repaired armor gleaming in the light. "Issue orders to the Militarum, Mechanicus and Sororitas units nearest to Storvhal to engage all enemy forces. We will send reinforcements as soon as we are able."

Once again, the Senate erupted into activity, but this time, everyone was coordinating to ensure the operation's success.

"Saint Shepard," Calgar said as he approached, "I would like for you and elements of Tempestor Prime Vils' forces to head to a staging ground at the northernmost point of Hyperia. Once we've secured the Noctilith Crown that causes these Warp-anomalies, you may enter the area."

Shepard didn't like the idea of sitting back while others fought on her behalf, but she understood Calgar's reasoning. If her powers really could drive Chaos off the planet, they couldn't risk her death in the middle of a skirmish.

"All right," Shepard said. "I need some gear, anyway."

…

"It's a perfect fit," Vils commented as Shepard stepped out of the arming chamber.

Shepard smirked. "You're just saying that because I'm wearing your unit's armor."

Vils shrugged. "It doesn't hurt."

While the Imperium rushed to assault Storvhal, Shepard needed proper equipment if she was going into a combat zone. The Ministorum had commissioned her a suit of special armor, but it wasn't ready, so the Deltic Scorpions had stepped up and offered her the red fatigues and black carapace armor of their regiment. She was also given a large sidearm that was known as a bolt pistol; unlike the laser weaponry that most Imperial soldiers used, bolt weapons fired enormous high-explosive, mass-reactive rounds that were more like shells than bullets.

Shepard examined the black-painted pistol for a moment, marveling that she had a handheld rocket launcher, and holstered it. She still had her power pick; she'd gotten too used to its heft by now to grab something else.

"Oh, admit it," Shepard said, and tossed her hair back. "I make this look good."

"Of course you do," Vils said with his usual monotone, but Shepard had a feeling that he was smiling. "It's our gear."

Shepard laughed and patted the man on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get on the gunship before someone takes the good seats."

A squadron of Valkyrie gunships rested on the nearby landing pad. Most were already packed with Scions; they were waiting for their commander and their Saint. Shepard took the time to nod at the Tempestors, who saluted, and then put on her helmet. She felt a wave of nostalgia as her heads-up display came online.

"We've got the coordinates for the staging ground," Vils said over the vox—the Imperial communications devices. "We'll arrive in approximately forty-five minutes."

"Any news on the attack?" Shepard asked as she settled into her seat.

"The surrounding forces have the enemy contained, but that could change at any time. The Space Marines will begin their assault any minute now. About two hundred of them were dropping in; with that kind of power, they'll hold until we get there."

About twenty minutes after the gunships took off, Shepard figured that it would be a good time to at least act like the Saint she was expected to be. "Vils, patch me through to each squad. I'd like to lead a prayer."

Vils sat up in his seat and nodded. "One moment, Your Holiness."

Back to that, huh? Inside her full-face helmet, Shepard rolled her eyes. A moment later, Vils nodded, and Shepard began to speak.

"Look to your battle gear and it will protect you," she intoned.

"We guard it with our lives," over a hundred voices responded.

"Your armor is your soul, and your soul's dedication is its armor."

"The soul of the warrior is the protector of humanity."

"Honor the craft of death."

"Only the Emperor is higher in our devotion."

"Honor the battle gear of the dead. We ask only to serve."

As Shepard finished, she finally noticed the golden aura that briefly surrounded her. She also felt a sense of certainty deep within her soul. She'd felt something like it before, after she'd come to worship Sigmar, and after prayers, but this was so much more. She didn't really believe in destiny, but she felt, in her heart of hearts, that she was meant to be here.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd been spiritually fortified. Vils and his command squad sat even straighter, if that was possible, and looked ready to follow Shepard into hell if she asked.

The moment didn't last; the gunship suddenly jinked to the left, and a shockwave battered them all.

"We've been engaged by hostile AA-weapons!" the pilot shouted over the vox. "Surface-to-air missiles!"

"Inform local ground forces," Vils ordered. "We must reach the staging area."

"Ground forces are reporting a massive attack," the pilot reported a moment later. "They can't reach those launchers in time, and—"

There was a massive boom, and then Shepard's head connected solidly with the gunship's door. She must have blacked out, because the next thing she knew, the lights inside the Valkyrie were flashing red, and the gunship was spinning out of control.

"Can't maintain altitude," the pilot growled. "We're going down! Brace for impact!"

Shepard almost laughed. "Hell of a first day back."

Then they hit the ground, and everything went to hell.

Whether it was a testament to their pilot's skill or just dumb luck, the gunship crashed at an angle, and skipped across the roof of a building, through the open air, and came to a stop on the roof of another.

"Everyone out!" Vils shouted.

"The door's jammed, sir!" a Scion called out.

"I've got it," Shepard said, shouldering her way to the door. "Give me some room to swing!"

Everyone leaned as far back as they could in the cramped gunship. Shepard activated her power pick and swung at the edge of the door; the power field let the tool slice through the armor from top to bottom. Shepard and another Scion rammed their shoulders against the damaged metal; with a screech, the door fell away. They had just exited the Valkyrie when bullets rained down around them.

"Take cover!" Vils commanded as he dived behind the low crenellations at the roof's edge. "ID those shooters and take them out!"

Most of the squad were armed with their hot-shot lasguns, and their intensive training let them quickly track the bullets back to their shooters, who were at the top of a building nearby. It was higher than their own building, and their attackers had cover, but the Tempestus Scions were crack shots. Las-fire hissed, and figures tumbled off the roof.

"Did one of those guys have three arms?" Shepard asked as she watched the bodies fall.

"Genestealer Cults," Vils growled as he fired his plasma pistol. "Half-xenos scum."

Despite the ambush, Shepard and her escort were able to drive back the cultists, and only a single man was wounded.

"What's the status of the pilot?" Vils asked, while the squad's medic patched up the wounded man.

"Dead, sir," another Scion reported. "Copilot and gunners are gone, too."

"And the gunship is in no state to fly," Shepard added. "We'll need a ride, but those AA missiles are going to be a problem if we exfiltrate by air."

"Then our first task is to eliminate those launchers." Vils watched as a missile streaked upwards from another nearby building, but the lack of explosion hinted that it missed. "Is there a way we can reach that site?"

Shepard looked over the edge. "I can see a maintenance bridge about four levels down. It connects the two buildings."

"The cultists might be abominations, but they're not stupid," Vils said. "That bridge will be a perfect spot for an ambush. Ma'am, perhaps you can use those holy wings to link up with another gunship. We'll only slow you down."

Shepard frowned. "Absolutely not, Vils. I don't leave good soldiers behind."

"… Understood, ma'am." Vils looked down at the bridge in question. "I wouldn't be surprised if we face opposition on the way down, and this is a commercial district. It'll be close-quarters. Niks! You're on point!"

A woman stepped forward and hefted a wide-barreled weapon. "Got it, sir."

The way down was a far cry from the chaotic firefight from earlier. In fact, if Shepard couldn't still feel the shockwaves from explosions outside, she would have called it a peaceful stroll. Of course, she knew how bad her luck was when it came from getting from one place to another, so she didn't let down her guard.

Her caution was warranted, because she had only an instant to react before a shrieking blur burst from a vent. Shepard fired her bolt pistol, and was surprised by the kick from the weapon, but she kept her focus on the thing trying to kill her. It was too fast to get a good look, but not so fast that she couldn't track it; her first shot struck its shoulder and blew off one arm, and her second caught it in the gut. That slowed it down enough for Niks to level her meltagun and, with a beam of blinding light, reduced the right half of its body to molten goo.

Now that it was dead, Shepard could finally examine it. If it hadn't been hunched over, it would have been taller than a man; the parts of its body that weren't covered in flexible green-blue carapace had purple flesh, and it had once had four arms, each hand tipped with huge talons. Its head was bulbous and ridged, and its mouth was filled with needle-sharp teeth.

"What the hell is this thing?" Shepard asked.

"A Genestealer," Vils growled in obvious disgust. "Foul xenos are practically worshiped by the cults. They breed with the things, and make the abominations that tried to kill us earlier."

Shepard looked down at the dead alien and grimaced. "That's an unpleasant mental image." Then she glanced at her bolt pistol and nodded. "I like this gun, though."

"All yours, Your Holiness."

Shepard looked at the meltagun in Niks' hands. "I like that one, too." She noticed Vils staring at her. "What? I like guns."

One of the Scions in the back muttered something that sounded like 'Best Saint ever', and Shepard smiled. "Come on, we've still got to cross that bridge."

As alien as the Genestealer Cults were, they weren't reckless if they didn't have to be. Rather than send waves of troops against Shepard and the elite Scions, they fortified the bridge that they knew the Imperials would have to cross. A quick look at the bridge was enough to confirm a kill-zone with a dozen weapon emplacements behind sandbags and piles of debris. Scion armor was good, but everyone knew that they would be shredded if they tried to cross.

"Now might be a good time to fly out of here," Vils suggested again.

"I'm starting to think you might be right," Shepard agreed, but then continued. "But I'm not running away. They've got the top of the bridge locked down, but I didn't see anything guarding the underside. I'll fly under their fire, and attack from behind."

"Can you take out all of those emplacements before they swing around to target you?" Vils asked.

"Probably not," Shepard admitted. "I'll need some grenades for that."

Each member of the squad quickly donated his or her supply of grenades. Shepard belted them around her waist, across her chest, and even around her arms and legs. She was very aware that one good shot would set off quite the explosion, and she would be out in the open for a few vital seconds before she slipped under the enemy's fire.

"Give me some cover," Shepard ordered as she prepared to move. "I'll go on your order, Vils."

The Tempestor Prime nodded. "Everyone with a las, pick your targets. I want those gunners pinned down." He glanced at Shepard, who was crouched and ready. "Fire!"

Bright red beams of energy lanced out; the expert sharpshooters even managed to drop a few cultists before they ducked behind their cover. Shepard wasted no time and dived through the door, and then leaped out into the open air.

I really hope this works, Shepard thought. Though she'd projected confidence in her abilities, she hadn't actually tapped into her powers since fighting the Iron Warriors, and it was entirely possible that she had just jumped to her death.

She had to remember the first time she'd used her power. That meant remembering the rage; she dug deep into her memories, dredging up each time she'd felt overwhelming anger. More than the fury of losing good people to monsters and traitors, she remembered the resolve to not let it happen again.

Shepard hadn't realized that she'd closed her eyes, but when she opened them again, they burned with golden light. The golden wings materialized at her back, and she began to fly.

If it were any other situation, Shepard might have laughed at the feeling of flying under her own power. Before, it had always been on a machine, or on Stormwing's back; now, she had her own wings. Unfortunately, she still had to battle with the rising tide of rage that threatened to overtake her, so it was difficult to enjoy her newfound flight. Instead, she focused on getting to the other building, which took less than a minute; as she perched on a carving of an angelic figure, she marveled at the speeds she'd achieved.

Shepard just hoped that the cultists hadn't seen her approach. It took her a moment, but she figured out how to 'deactivate' her powers, so that the light didn't attract attention. She then used her power pick to haul herself up the side of the building; it took a few minutes, but it was a better option than being shot.

The closest of the weapon emplacements, a heavy bolter, was firing nonstop at the Scions, who were rapidly running out of cover. The roar of the high-caliber rounds was deafening, even with Shepard's helmet protecting her ears. Hanging by the fingers of one hand off the edge of the room, Shepard pulled the pins off one bandolier of grenades, and hurled it in an arc, and then jumped back. The explosives landed between the weapon crew an instant before they exploded; Shepard, who had brought forth her wings once more, flew back from the blast.

The other cultist teams were surprised by the sudden loss, and that split second of indecision was all Shepard needed. She hurled more bandoliers among the other emplacements, and explosions rocked the far side of the bridge.

"Scorpions!" Vils raised his chainsword. "Forward!"

Once Shepard was out of grenades, she drew her bolt pistol and fired down at the diminished cultists from the air. She killed three, but then something leaped from the shadows and tackled her in midair. A serrated blade stabbed forward and cut across her forearm, slicing through her armor and cutting a jagged gash across her flesh.

Shepard hissed in pain as she and her assailant tumbled out of the air, but she managed to correct herself enough to put the cultist between herself and the ground. Amazingly, though Shepard heard the crack of bones breaking, the cultist still fought. He was covered in a dark cloak, and between that and the unnatural sword he held, Shepard had a flashback to when Skaven assassins had tried to kill her.

Rather than face a squealing rat-man, Shepard fought a squirming half-xenos freak of nature. She leaned out of the way of another stab from the sword that the assassin had managed to hold onto, and then pressed the barrel of her pistol against his chest. She pulled the trigger twice; the mass-reactive shells blew fist-sized holes through the cultist, and left bloody craters in the roof under him.

By the time Shepard had stepped back, Vils and the other Scions had finished off the remaining cultists. Vils himself was spattered by blood, though not his own; he had been right when he'd said that chainswords were messy affairs.

"Ma'am, you're injured!" Vils quickly inspected the wound. "Medic! I need—"

He and Shepard both stared as the blood from her injury glowed with golden light. When it receded, there was still dried blood, but the flesh beneath it was undamaged.

"Well, damn," Shepard said, and flexed her healed arm. "That's impressive."

"First time performing a miracle on yourself?" Vils asked, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

"The wings and beating the Chaos out of people don't count?" Shepard teased. "We can add up my miracles later; right now, we still have to get rid of those missile launchers."

Thankfully, there was only one level between them and their target, but none of them were about to charge recklessly ahead, not when they were so close to achieving their objective. This was wise, because they nearly activated a tripwire-activated trap.

Shepard was actually glad that they took their time—though her wound had healed, there was definitely a price. For a few minutes, she was almost too tired to stand; only willpower and adrenaline kept her moving at all. Thankfully, she only needed those few minutes to recover, though she hoped that she wasn't put in that position too often.

Of course, knowing her luck, she probably would.

"Everyone ready?" Vils asked as they reached the door to the roof. "Niks, take point again."

"Copy that, sir." Niks hefted her meltagun again, and waited for Vils to tap her shoulder before melting the door down, along with a good part of the doorframe. She charged out, but barely got five steps before a three-armed cultist grabbed her; Niks screamed as talons ripped into her flesh.

"Die, xeno!" Vils swung his chainsword deep into the cultist's back, nearly sawing him in half before he finally let go of Niks.

"Kill the rest!" Shepard ordered as she rushed another cultist, this one armed and armored with equipment found among the Vigilus Guard. He raised his lasgun, but Shepard smashed it aside with her power pick; unfortunately, the tool chose that moment to spark and fail. Without its power field, the pick cracked and shattered. Though Shepard was disarmed, so was her opponent; she then punched him with such force that the front half of his skull was crushed into pulp.

Gunfire erupted as Tempestus Scions fought cultists. Two more Imperial soldiers went down, though the rest of the cultists, including the ones operating the missile launcher, were finished off by a man with a flamer. Shepard wasn't a xenophobe, but as she watched the hybrids burn, she felt a certain satisfaction before turning to Vils.

"How's Niks?"

Vils shook his head. "She didn't make it. Lost too much blood." He squared his shoulders. "She died achieving the mission. As far as we're concerned, that's a good death."

On a personal level, Shepard preferred that soldiers lived long enough to die at home, with their families, but she wasn't going to dishonor Niks' memory.

"The skies should be clear, right?"

"We should have a corridor, yes."

Shepard picked up the broken remains of her power pick, sighed, and then tossed it away. "Then get us a ride out of here. We're late for an appointment."

…

Marneus Calgar took a deep breath as the final Chaos Marine fell beneath his gauntlets. The attack on the Chaos stronghold had been hard-fought, but with over four hundred Space Marines striking the heart of their forces, the Noctilith Crown was quickly secured.

"Begin consolidation efforts immediately," Calgar ordered over the command frequencies. "We must hold this location at all costs."

Within minutes, thousands of Guardsmen were moving their sandbags from positions to lay siege to the Chaos-held base, to defending it. Mechanicus elements dragged in supplies and organized logistics on a level that would have been impossible for an unaugmented mind. The only area not touched was the Crown itself, and a hundred meters of ground around it; no one wanted to risk being destroyed by its wild energies, or worse, be corrupted by them.

Satisfied with how things were progressing, Calgar sent the signal for Shepard to be moved in. Like most Space Marines, he was wary of the powers a Living Saint possessed; after all, agents of Chaos had masqueraded as holy figures in the past, and had fooled many a mortal. However, if Shepard really could purify something tainted by Chaos, it was an opportunity that Calgar could never pass up.

Nearly twenty minutes later, a squadron of Valkyries touched down, and Shepard stepped out. Calgar noted that the Living Saint showed signs of recent battle, including a bloodied arm. She looked tired, but she held her head high, and she walked with purpose.

"I thought you would be somewhere safe," Calgar remarked as Shepard approached. "That was why you were not part of this attack."

Shepard just shrugged. "No one expected cultists armed with surface-to-air missiles. At least we made it on time, right?"

"Indeed." Calgar motioned to the Noctilith Crown. "This is your test. Can you purify it?"

Shepard craned her neck back as she took in the sight. Calgar didn't blame her; the Noctilith Crowns were massive ringed structures, covered in spikes and dotted with infernal runes. The hollow space inside of the ring was filled with Warp-energy that lashed out like a living thing.

"From what I understand, the structures are created from corrupted blackstone," Calgar said. "They channel the Warp and strengthen its hold on the material plane."

"Right, and when blackstone isn't messed with, it repels Chaos." Shepard shrugged again when Calgar looked at him. "I asked around. It was hard to get even that much from the Tech-Priests. Like pulling teeth."

Calgar shared her frustrations, though he didn't voice them. Instead, he just pointed at the Crown again.

"Fine, fine." Shepard marched forward. "I'll see what I can do."

As Shepard approached, the lashing tendrils of Warp-stuff shrieked and tried to crush her. An instant before that happened, Shepard was haloed in golden light; she raised one hand, and a golden beam blasted the energies back.

"Yeah, that's right," Shepard said, not quite so softly that Calgar's enhanced hearing didn't pick it up. "You remember me, you evil asshats? I'm back, and you'd better hope I don't get my hands on you."

Shepard placed her hands on the Crown, and the light around her grew brighter. At first, nothing happened, but after a few moments, the blackstone began to groan; then, the runes hissed and burned away, the spikes melted back into the rest of the structure, and the energies in the center stilled.

"I can… sense it," Shepard panted. "There's a… network. It's all connected. I think I can…" She made her way to the front of the Crown and, to everyone's alarm, shoved her hand into the gateway.

The light grew blinding, even to those whose helmets adjusted to bright lights. The only things Calgar could hear were the shrieks of denied gods, and a scream of rage so powerful that no human voice should have been able to produce it.

When the light finally faded, Calgar saw Shepard lying on the ground. The Crown remained, though it looked like an ordinary stone structure, rather than a site of unholy power. The ground around it, once twisted and unnatural, looked just like any other normal soil.

She had done it.

Calgar hurried to Shepard's side, gently lifting her up as he pried off her helmet. "Saint Shepard?"

She coughed, and then took several deep breaths before opening her eyes. "That… hurt."

"What did you do?"

Shepard grinned weakly. "I could see the network. All the rings were keeping each other stable, and making them more powerful at the same time. I just dumped my power into the mix… I think I purified the whole network."

Calgar thought of the many Crowns dotting Vigilus, and realized what this could mean. He quickly handed Shepard to a team of medics who rushed to help the Saint, and then he accessed the planetary strategic command. He was flooded with reports of Chaos forces across the planet screaming in pain, unable to use their unholy powers, or even outright dying.

There was a feeling in Calgar's soul, one that he'd only felt a handful of times. The last had been when his Primarch had been resurrected. That had been over a century ago, and it took him a moment to recognize it.

Hope.

I realize what Shepard did here. Yes, she purified an entire planet in a single move. However, this was a one-time thing. She had to access an entire network of blackstone structures, purify them, and then use them to cover the entire world in her own power, which was amplified by the blackstone. Circumstances were just right for her to do this, and it won't happen again, unless Chaos tries to do this exact same thing.

Wait, Chaos tries to do this sort of thing all the time. Well, blackstone is pretty rare, so this was still a one-time deal.

Also, Genestealer Cults are actually my favorite non-Imperium faction, so I had to bring them in, even for a little bit. Shepard will probably fight them again next chapter, since she's still waiting for her Crusade to get here, and only those who are corrupted by Chaos are affected by her purification powers.

Anyway, sorry for not getting this chapter out sooner. I've been slammed with a bunch of stuff over the last couple of weeks, including: an electrical fire caused by the recent earthquakes (I live in California), power outages (again, earthquakes), talking to people about getting a job (fingers crossed), and just being too tired to do anything. Most of this chapter was written within the last 48 hours of this chapter's release.

Another recurring problem I'm having is lack of funds. My parents are pretty fed up with me not having a job (I'm trying, dammit!), and have made it abundantly clear that I'm getting kicked out by my next birthday. I don't want to live on the street. Please, if you'd be so kind, consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. It can be found on my website (link in my profile), or on Amazon. Seriously, I haven't had a sale in almost a month. It makes me very sad.

If you want to be awesome in a different way, please consider donating on P-atreon (also a link in my profile). If every person who favorited me dropped just five bucks a month, I'd be able to write fan fiction chapters at least once a week.

And now, a big shout-out to all of my patrons:

Serious Muffins: CrazySith87, jafr86, SpaceEmperorSpar, Nimrod009, CowardlyBravette, Anders Lyngbye, Krisjanis Jansons, Parker Maisterra, Matthias Matanovic, ChaosSpartan575, Alexis Troy, John Collins, Carl Bjorkhall

Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, michaelb958, Crazyman844, Jaeger456, killroy225

Ultra Muffins: Vlarto, Jeffrey Perigo, Matthew Bunting, RangersRoll

Next Chapter: Forces gather to strike back at the darkness!

Honor thy Muffin, honor the Emperor.